My Dear
by princess estellise
Summary: You still think he's coming back. - GuyTear, before he returned.


my dear

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( guy and tear, before he returned. post game. written in segments. )

disclaimed.

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**i.**

"Touch me," she says softly, her fingertips centimeters from his own.

"I can't." He doesn't move any closer to her, nor further from her.

Tear closes her eyes. Lets out a breath that sounds like a song. "Thank you," she says, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

**ii.**

"You still think he's coming back." Guy finds her here every night, at first, then every week, then every month, and then every year.

"I do." She sings the songs of Gods, hums prayers under her breath, and believes, more than anything, that he will arise and return to her, to them. She turns to Guy, eyes him carefully, the spike of his hair, the circles under his eyes. "So do you."

"Luke wouldn't go that easily." Guy's eyes flash. "I'll never lose faith in him."

Tear smiles at him, a sad turn of the ends of her lips. "You never have," she says, and Guy supposes that she hasn't, either. Probably never will.

**iii.**

Guy is not one to dwell. Not since it almost cost him his best friend, his life, his modesty and forgiveness. Tear has not yet learned this lesson; she instead drowns in her dwellings, lives in and out of them and comes home to them at night. Guy wants to grip her by her slender shoulders, shake her until she understands: you keep living, you move forward, march as though you are a soldier.

They are all soldiers, him and her and Jade and Anise and Natalia, marching on after the war is over. One step at a time, glancing back every once in a while at what they've lost. What sets Tear apart is that she walks backwards, never watches where she's going, never turns around to see what is ahead instead of behind.

**iv.**

They wait to have the funeral, for both Luke and Asch, until the moon has cycled. Tear attends; Guy does not.

She finds him afterward in Luke's old room, sitting cross-legged on his bed and rolling something in the palm of his hand. He doesn't notice her come in, startles when she sits down next to him and peers over his shoulder. He clenches his fist closed, hides whatever it is he's holding onto, and Tear wants to pry but doesn't. Instead, she reaches for him, tenderly closes her fingers over the shape of his hand, feels the pulse of his veins, the thrumming heartbeat that courses through them.

"You can't," he breathes out. He's shaking, his fingers quivering under hers, but she doesn't move.

"Why didn't you come?" She asks, staring out the window. Guy doesn't immediately answer. He tries to tug away from her but she grips him harder. "We needed you there. I needed you. Why didn't you come?"

"Are you punishing me?" Guy asks, wrenching his hand from her grasp and standing up, his body quaking, legs looking as though they'll give out. "Don't do this, Tear. Just - don't."

"He was your best friend," Tear says, voice raising, "He was your _best_ _friend_ and you didn't show up to his funeral."

"He isn't dead," Guy tells her, "And if he is - I don't want to accept it. I won't." Guy clenches his jaw, clenches his fists.

"What is that?" Tear asks, gaze zeroing on the spaces between Guy's fingers.

"Mine," Guy says. He pushes it into his pocket, and pushes at the window until it swings open.

"Where are you going?" Tear stands, reaching for him and then stopping herself, hand resting midair, searching.

"Away." Guy pulls a leg over the ledge, prepares to jump, but Tear stops him with a wavering voice.

"Don't leave me alone here."

Guy exhales slowly, reaching into his pocket to pull out a chain with a locket clipped to it. He lies it on the ledge and opens it, a folded piece of paper tipping out. Guy unravels it, smooths it out, and reads, "_You make me feel less alone_." His gaze flickers to Tear, who stares back in bemusement. Guy breathes a humorless laugh. "Luke wrote that to me. When we were kids." Guy looks at the note fondly, traces the letters with his gloved fingers. "I was going to kill him, you know. I was supposed to, but I - " Guy sucks in a heavy breath, chest rising with the movement, "He made me feel less alone, too."

He leaves, then. Tear closes her eyes, breathes in.

**v.**

"Aren't you tired?" Guy carefully steps over the overturned pebbles and plucked flowers in a pile on the ground, lays down his sword and sits.

Tear shakes her head, watches the horizon, waits. They're always waiting for something, it seems. Red hair. Green eyes. Answers. Time stands still, sometimes, pauses and waits with them, and when the sun comes up in the morning and nothing has changed, it becomes harder. There are times that Guy has to force himself to come here, days when he doesn't show because he can't take the uncertainty. There is never a time that Guy is here that Tear isn't, though, and that is what separates them.

"How could you not be?" Guy asks, shaking his head and staring at the blades of grass at his feet. They grow, they breathe; they wait. "I'm tired all the time." Guy smiles to himself, albeit sadly, "I try to keep myself busy, but in the end, I can't get away from this. I always come back here. I'm always tired."

"Can you keep watch for a while?" Tear asks, "I want to go to sleep."

"Yeah," Guy says after a hesitation, understanding, "of course."

**vi.**

Tear doesn't sing unless she is singing for Luke, doesn't pray unless they reach him.

Sometimes, though, Guy hears her hum under her breath, hears her whisper God's name, and he feels lighter, like maybe she prays for him, too, when Luke isn't listening.

**vii.**

There are times that they are almost something, but that is all it is: a series of almosts.

He leans into her once when they are alone, twice when they are with others, lets their shoulders brush, and she is the one to pull away.

She runs her fingertips over the gold of his necklace, holds it delicately between her index finger and thumb. Guy swallows and she catches herself. Puts her hands in her lap and looks sad again.

He reaches for her in his sleep, finds himself tangled in her when he wakes, and his skin is set aflame with her touch, and he's shaking as he jerks away, but he knows the reasons are different.

She kisses him on the corner of his mouth, catching his tear, and the drop clings to her lips. He presses forward, dips his tongue to the seam of her mouth, tastes salt - it's bitter and breathtaking, like ocean air - and then pulls back, whispering his apologies. They float on sea foam and bubble away.

**viii.**

"Tell me about him," Tear says one morning when the sun is bright and golden, warming the crown of her head.

Guy eyes her from his perch on the plaza bench, studies her. "What about him?"

"Anything you know that I don't." Tear tucks a strand of hair behind her ear but her face is still shadowed by her bangs. "Or just - anything at all."

"Okay," Guy says, repositioning himself, getting comfortable. He hoists his legs up and crosses them, rests his elbows on his knees. "He was really scared of spiders when he was younger. And really scared of Natalia." A ghost of a smile flickers across Tear's lips. "So to help him get over his fear of spiders, I told him that if you held one, some people wouldn't come near you. Like magic." Guy grins fondly, eyes crinkling, "He ended up using them to keep Natalia away from him."

Tear ends up laughing at that, a small giggle escaping her mouth because can't help it. "That's awful," she says, shaking her head, fighting her smile.

"Yeah, I guess," Guy agrees, continuing, "he would always whine about how he couldn't remember that 'stupid promise' he made to her when they were younger, but." Guy's smile shifts to something sadder, "I knew he felt bad about it. Not being able to remember. He tried _so hard_ to remember everything, you know? But there weren't even any memories _there_. It was rough on him."

Tear drops her gaze to the ground. "I'm sure," she agrees softly.

"When he found out he was a replica," Guy murmurs, voice careful, "he was so surprised that everyone came back to him. Especially you - he never really thought you'd stay." Tear's breath catches, but Guy goes on, "He was so scared that he'd do something wrong. That he'd screw up again and you would stop trusting him." Guy takes a steady breath. "I don't think he could've changed if it weren't for you."

Tear closes her eyes for a moment, steadies herself. "But he wouldn't have tried if it weren't for you."

"Maybe," Guy relents. He hesitates then, thinking. "He loves you," he says after a while, words warmed by the sun.

Tear opens her eyes, meets his gaze. "He loves _you_," she says. Guy raises a knowing brow, and Tear exhales, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I love him, too."

**ix.**

"It's close," Guy murmurs, threading his fingers through his hair. Tear glances up from where she's sitting, in a room of Peony's castle, cocks her head in question. "His birthday. He'll be - " Guy stops himself, almost choking on the words lodged in his throat, "he'll be twenty." He lets out a breath that almost sounds surprised.

Tear nods slowly, dropping her gaze. "Natalia - sent invitations, didn't she? To the ceremony?"

Guy sighs, shoulders drooping. "Yeah. She did." He turns away from her, opening the drawers of his dresser and digging through it, searching for something. Tear watches him quietly, eyes trained on his back, but he merely produces the same parchment Tear had received, an identical message written across the page. Guy stares at it for a while, eyes flitting over the words.

"I'm not going," Tear says after the silence becomes too long, too heavy.

Guy looks at her from under his fringe, smiles. "I was hoping you'd say that."

**x.**

"They're going to know we're here," Guy says, laughing under his breath as Tear finds a perch on the large stone overlooking the valley.

"We're not trying to hide," Tear responds quietly, swinging her legs over the ledge and letting them dangle. Guy exhales, balancing on his heels and watching the wind move the grass. There is a long silence, and then Tear begins to sing.


End file.
